


true north

by ahtohallan_calling



Category: Frozen (Disney Movies)
Genre: Eventual Fluff, F/M, Single Dad AU, Slow Burn, coffee shop AU, yup welcome to the backstory for all the drabbles i already posted
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-04
Updated: 2020-05-01
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:48:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23478748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ahtohallan_calling/pseuds/ahtohallan_calling
Summary: This wasn't how Kristoff's life was supposed to go, but he thinks he likes it better this way, anyway: sure, it's not easy running his family's coffee shop and bakery, but it's honest work that means he can afford to take care of his daughter on his own. And really, what else does he need besides that?On the day Anna Delle walks in, he just might find out.
Relationships: Anna/Kristoff (Disney)
Comments: 41
Kudos: 65





	1. prologue

He assumes, at first, that it’s the concussion making everything seem strange.

“Where’s Alice?” he asked, even the sound of his own voice making his skull rattle in its-- its-- whatever the fuck it is.

“It’s not important,” Bailey says, and that’s the first weird thing, “go back to sleep.”

“I’m not tired,” he says as he frowns and elbows his way more upright in the hospital bed. “Where is she?”

“With your mom.”

“Can I use your phone to call? Mine died.”

And there’s the second, the sudden flare of fear in her too-green eyes. “Why?”

It seems obvious to  _ him _ why he might want to call his mother after a scrimmage gone wrong that will definitely make the news in his sleepy hometown. Maybe it’s the concussion, maybe not, but he insists anyway. “I wanna talk to her.”

“She’s three months old.”

“I want to talk to her,” he pushes, struggling further upright even though he knows he’s about to puke again if he keeps at it. “I wanna talk to my baby.”

“ _ Jesus _ , fine,” Bailey snaps, as if it’s a big imposition, and then the third weird thing is that she dials for him before handing him the phone.

“Ma,” he says, hoping that if his voice is slurred she’ll blame it on a bad connection, “Ma, hi, it’s Kristoff.”

“Kris, honey, we just saw on the news what happened,” she says, and his mom has always been his rock, and he’s glad that she at least is something steady in this day that he’s starting to think will only get worse somehow. “Do you need me to come up there?”

“Nu-uh. Where’s Alice?”

“I’m holding her right now. She’s asleep.”

“Okay. Tell her I love her when she wakes up, okay?”

“Of course. You get back to resting, now.”

That’s the plan; he feels drained already, and he’s only been awake five minutes. He hangs up the phone, and it goes to the list of recent calls, and there’s the fourth weird thing-- well, really, he realizes as he scrolls down the list, more like...shit, his head hurts too bad to count, but this is a lot of little weird things adding up to one big fat stinking  _ terrible _ thing.

Bailey turns back to him from where she’s been talking to a nurse, and she must see his expression because there’s that fear again. She opens her mouth and closes it and opens it again, but there’s no sound falling out.

Kristoff furrows his eyebrows, ignoring how it makes the knife in his head dig deeper. 

“Who the fuck is Lucas?” 

* * *

“I love you,” he whispers to the sleepy bundle in his arms. “For always.”

There are a lot of scary things in his life right now, like how he’s just quit his job and is going to have to figure out how to pay rent and bills and all the other shit without it. And how technically both their names are on the lease. 

But this is the big one, that this might be his last chance to hold his little girl, and if it is, she’s not ever going to remember him at all.

(Because it doesn’t matter what the doctor says on the phone tomorrow. He loves her more than anyone or anything, even if it turns out she’s not supposed to be his.  _ No take-backs _ , that was what he’d wanted to tell Bailey when she said Lucas wanted a test done.  _ You said she’s mine and so she is. _ )

The apartment is quiet tonight, no buzzing electric toothbrush or singing in the shower or tapping on the phone. He guesses Lucas hears all of that now.

He kind of likes the quiet, if he’s being honest. It feels like a betrayal to admit that, but in comparison, it’s a pretty fucking small one. 

Alice yawns, curls and uncurls a tiny fist. He runs a fingertip over it, smiles when she grabs on. “That’s my girl,” he says softly, leaning down as he lifts his elbow just enough that he can press a kiss to her forehead. She makes a happy little noise when he does it, and when he pulls back she’s smiling.

“I love you,” he says again, hoping that somehow in the back of her mind she’ll always know it.

  
  


* * *

At least Lucas was decent enough to suggest the test, to say he would step right up and take care of Alice if she was his after all. “Bailey told me she thought she was,” he admits as they tramp back down the stairs a third time. “But like...I held her a couple times when you weren’t around, and I just wasn’t seeing it, man.”

It’s weird, in Kristoff’s opinion, that a guy who’s being so honest and friendly right now would be okay with being The Other Man for a year and a half. But he doesn’t have to deal with him much longer, and the less he questions it the faster they can finish unloading the rest of the baby stuff Bailey sent over with him. It makes him feel a little sick, though, the thought that the three of them played Happy Family while he was at practice or running errands or something.

_ But it’s not happening again _ , he reminds himself,  _ she’s just yours now, for good.  _

“You seem like a cool dude, though,” Lucas continues as he carries a jumbo can of formula up the stairs, followed by Kristoff with a stroller in one hand and a carseat in the other and Alice strapped to his chest. “So, uh, good luck.”

“Thanks,” Kristoff mutters, mentally adding another reason to his list of reasons why he’s glad the test came back saying definitively that Alice was a Bjorgman after all. New reason: she’s not going to be raised by a fucking moron.

(The top ten reasons are all variations on the theme of how deeply he loves her, how she’s  _ his _ little girl no matter what, but number eleven is “it’d break Ma’s heart”. Number eighteen is “I already bought that baby Jack-o-lantern costume, and I don’t know if it’s more depressing to keep it or throw it out”; number thirty-four is once more, “ _ I _ love her”, emphasis on the  _ I _ because he knows Lucas sure as fuck doesn’t, and he’s starting to doubt that Bailey does, too.)

Alice starts to wind up into a good old fashioned tantrum just as they reach the top of the steps, and it’s right on time; that was the last load, and Lucas is the special kind of oblivious that means he’d probably stick around shooting the shit for twenty more minutes at least. Instead he hears the first wail and is already backing out the door with barely a “see you, dude”.

“Hope not,” Kristoff mutters at the closed door as he frees Alice from the carrier and pulls her close to his chest, bouncing her gently up and down as she snuffles against his neck, already calming down.

He can’t help but grin. “Did you do that on purpose, Al?” he asks her, his thumb rubbing a soothing pattern up and down her back. “Were you tired of his bullshit, too?”

And shit, maybe she’s three months old, but he thinks maybe it  _ was  _ on purpose. They’re a team already, and the thought fills his chest with pride.

“We’re gonna make it,” he promises her, resolution burning in every part of him. “We’re gonna do this together, alright?”

Her response is to cling to his t-shirt with a surprisingly strong grip. He’ll take that as a  _ hell, yeah. _


	2. birthday pt 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay! i drive myself crazy when i try to do scenes/days all in one chapter so I think for this fic I'm gonna split a lot of them up into shorter pieces, that way I can update more and overwhelm myself less :) 
> 
> so all of that to say, there will be more of alice's bday in the next chap :)

For once, Kristoff’s up before his daughter. It’s kinda nice to see her all sprawled out in her big-girl bed, curls all over her pillow and an arm slung haphazardly across her face, to be the one waking  _ her _ up instead of the other way around. He’d go to the end of the earth for her, but he’s never really going to get used to being woken up by little elbows jabbing him in the ribs as she climbs up beside him and sings, “Rise and shine, Daddy!” until he groans and rolls over. 

She’s only sleeping in this late now because she had a rough night last night, asking again if her mom was coming for her birthday. He ended up putting her in her carseat and driving her around for an hour until she fell asleep, the same way he did when she was teething. It’s just a phase, that’s what Ma told him, but it still breaks his heart every time he has to tell her that no, Bailey’s not coming around. 

He’d let her, if she wanted to, but he hasn’t heard from her since the last text telling him she’d faxed over the paperwork terminating her parental rights. It was a new number with a Nevada area code. He tried calling it a few times afterwards for her third birthday and then for Christmas, but eventually after some googling about how these things work, he realized Bailey had already blocked him.

Alice makes a little snuffly noise and rolls over, facing him. He kneels beside her, gently brushing her hair out of her eyes. She blinks awake, rubbing her tiny fists against her eyes.

“Daddy?” she whispers, and his heart might just burst.

“Good morning, baby girl,” he says, leaning down to pull her into a hug. “Happy birthday.”

Alice giggles and leans into the hug, clinging to the front of his shirt. “Rise and shine!” she sings, her favorite jingle from her favorite kiddie show, and he chuckles as he stands up, gently patting her back. 

“Do you know how old you are now, Al?” he asks as he carries her into the kitchen.

“Three!” she chirps out of habit.

“No, honey, you’re four now, remember?”

She leans back, her forehead creased with confusion. “What?”

“It’s your birthday. So now you’re four,” he explains, shifting her to one side so he can hold up four fingers with the other hand. 

“Oh, okay,” she says, laying her head back down on his shoulder. “Do I get cake now?”

“No, that’s later with Nana.” 

He sets her down on the counter, and she giggles up at him. It’s a special treat getting to eat up here instead of at the table, where she’s sort of at his eye level if he leans down like he’s doing right now. “But I made you Funfetti pancakes. That okay?”

“Can I have strawberries on them?” she asks hopefully. 

That’s her other phase right now, strawberries on everything, and he’s prepared for that, too. “Already done,” he says as he hands her a paper plate with the pancake already cut up.

She squeals with delight and dives right in with her hands, and he thanks his five A.M. self for deciding on Reddi-Whip instead of maple syrup today-- much less of a hassle to get out of her hands and her hair. 

After breakfast, he helps her get dressed, and he doesn’t try to steer her in a more conservative direction even when she asks to wear one pink tennis shoe and one purple. He ties them for her and blows a raspberry on one of her knees, and she squeals and ruffles her hands in his hair. “You’re silly, Daddy!” she laughs as he swoops her up high before settling her on his hip again. She’s getting too old to be carried around everywhere like this, but damn it, he’s feeling sentimental that already his baby is  _ four _ , un-fucking-believable, and if he doesn’t set her down again ‘til the next birthday that’s his business.

“ _ I’m _ silly? Nah, Ally Pally,  _ you’re _ the silly one,” he teases as they go into the living room to watch the kids’ channel until Sven shows up.

It’s seven thirty on a Saturday morning, and they both know exactly what that means. Alice hasn’t missed a showing of  _ Poppy’s Garden Tales _ since the show started airing a year or so ago, and she’s sure as hell not going to miss it today, even if it’s another rerun. 

She settles back against Kristoff’s chest as he flips to the right channel, just in time to watch Poppy the pink mouse go into her garden to greet all the little creatures and flowers waiting out there. “Rise and shine, everybody!” she sings, and Alice echoes like she always does, off-key as ever.

“Good morning, Poppy!” comes floating over the polka-dotted fence, and then the gate swings open to reveal the only human member of the cast, Alice’s hero Miss Anna, a book in her hand like always.

And just like that, Alice is hypnotized. It’s hilarious, sometimes, to see how fast she can go from a little maniac running around the room with one of her toys or throwing a screaming fit to being dead silent, eyes wide, when Miss Anna starts to tell her stories. Sven never fails to get a kick out of it, and Kristoff snaps a picture of it now to send to him.

_ Lol _ , comes the response a minute later.  _ Be there in 15. :) _

“Uncle Sven is almost here,” Kristoff says shifting Alice forward a little on his knee so he can start twisting her hair up into two buns on either side of her head, her current favorite hairstyle. 

No response comes; she’s entirely focused on the story of the three little pigs and the faces Miss Anna is pulling when she does the Big Bad Wolf’s voice. It’s for the best, really; even with a couple of years of practice under his belt, sometimes Kristoff gets his fingers tangled in her mass of dark brown curls. 

It makes something in him ache, sometimes, to see how much of her is Bailey; that beautiful hair, her heart shaped face and deep dimples, even the faces she makes sometimes when she gets excited about something.

She looks up at him then, though,, and the tension in his chest melts away when he sees her brown eyes wide and hopeful. That, at least, is all him. “Daddy?” 

“What, baby?”

“Can I have ribbons today?”

“Uh-huh,” he says, already reaching for the plastic tray he keeps on the side table full of all her hair elastics and barrettes and tiny little glittery things, all the shit YouTube had to teach him to use. He grabs one pink one and one purple-- to match her shoes, of course; maybe he’s hopeless at dressing himself, but he likes to think he’s pretty in tune with four-year-old sensibilities.

He ties the second bow just as Miss Anna pulls out her guitar for the goodbye song. He has to admit, he kinda likes this part, too; she’s got this slow, sweet accent that makes him think of sun-soaked flowers and tea that makes his teeth hurt, the kind he used to get on the crazy-long road trips to championship games south of the Mason-Dixon line. Alice loves it, too, she sings happily along, a beat behind and twice as loud, but Kristoff grins anyway and snuggles her a little closer.

The doorbell rings then, but it’s just a courtesy warning; Sven’s had a key to the house since the day Kristoff bought it. Alice takes off like a shot from his lap, and a moment later he hears a familiar laugh, followed by a, “Hey, Ally Pally. How’s my favorite niece?”

Kristoff grins and follows after her, just like always.


	3. birthday pt  2

“Can we see the penguins?”

“That’s the only reason to go to the zoo, isn’t it?” Sven asks, leaning back to tickle his goddaughter’s ankle. 

She squeals and kicks at his hand. “No! We go for ice cream!”

“We have ice cream at home,” Kristoff says, hiding a smile, because it’s his job to be the grouchy one so that Uncle Sven seems even cooler.

“But it’s my  _ birthday _ ,” she whines, and Kristoff glances up in the rearview mirror to see a pair of puppy dog eyes that match the set coming at him from the passenger seat.

“I’ll consider it,” he lies, knowing damn well he’ll be putting down ten bucks for two firecracker pops and a frozen lemonade and watch his melt while he keeps a napkin pressed to Alice’s chubby wrist before it drips onto her dress, and then inevitably more of it will end up on the ground than in her mouth.

He wonders if Bailey would say he’s spoiling her, that she doesn’t need a popsicle  _ and _ special pancakes  _ and  _ her pink birthday cake.

But Bailey’s not here, and that’s why he’ll do it.

“Hey Al, do you see what I see?” Sven says with exaggerated enthusiasm, pointing to the green road sign that says “Zoo Next Exit”, and Alice scrunches up her face.

“A tree?” she asks, confused, and Kristoff can’t help but laugh.

* * *

“Nah, man, I’ve got it,” Kristoff says gruffly as Sven pulls out his wallet.

“Let it be my birthday present to Al,” Sven argues, even though he’s already putting it away again; it’s a familiar routine for both of them, helps both of them keep their pride intact even if it means they get weird looks from waiters sometimes when Sven’s excuses err on the ridiculous side.

“I’m sure you already got her something else,” Kristoff says, sliding his debit card across the counter, and by the other man’s grin he knows that’s a yes.

The teenage boy managing the cash register makes that face, the one with narrowed eyes that say  _ don’t I know you from somewhere? _ Mercifully, Alice saves them by proclaiming very loudly, “It’s my birthday. I’m four.”

The teenager slides an “it’s my birthday!” sticker over the counter. “There you go, kiddo. Happy birthday. And, uh,” he adds, eyeing Sven a little shyly, “go Tigers.”

Sven grins and gives him a fist bump. “Thanks, man.”

They’re saved from getting asked for an autograph by a school bus of preschoolers rolling up. Kristoff pulls Alice out of the way and kneels down to put the sticker on her shirt, but she shrieks and pushes his hand away. “Not  _ there _ , Daddy,” she whines. 

“Okay, where?”

She points to the same spot he just went for, and he follows her orders. “Better?”

Alice nods and takes hold of his hand. “We can go now,” she says, imperious as a queen, and Sven doesn’t bother to hide his snort of laughter.

* * *

The arctic section, thankfully, is in the middle of the zoo, so in only a few minutes Alice has her nose pressed up against the glass as she watches them dive for their breakfast. Sven’s right beside her,  _ ooh _ -ing and  _ ahh _ -ing with all the kids even though he’s as tall as five of them stacked together. 

Kristoff hangs back and takes a surreptitious picture on his phone; they’ve learned the hard way if they try and take pictures together, someone inevitably notices and gasps, “Sven  _ Peters _ ?” and asks for a picture of their own, and then they lose half an hour to football fans who don’t give a shit that they have a limited amount of time before Alice has an “I-need-a-nap” meltdown.

Eventually, the penguins disappear in the recesses of the enclosure, and Alice bounds back over to him, holding her arms up. He does her one better and sets her on his shoulders. “Where to now, Ally Pally?”

“Seals!” she proclaims, and off they go, just in time to see the show with the trainers and the red ball. 

The birthday sticker nets Alice a chance to ask the trainer a question. “Do seals have mommies?” she asks, and though everyone else laughs at how cute it is, Kristoff feels queasy for a second, worried that she’s still not over last night’s meltdown.

They move pretty quick after that, knowing there’s only a finite amount of time before she starts asking for ice cream; Asian animals are next, first the elephants-- “stinky,” Alice says, wrinkling her nose as they watch one relieve itself, and then the tigers-- “take a picture of me with them quick, Bjorgman,” Sven insists, and somehow they manage to pull it off without anyone seeing, and then the pandas, which are Kristoff’s favorite because they know the secret to happiness is being left the hell alone to eat as much as you please.

The other bears are next, and Alice takes great delight in watching Sven look between Kristoff and the grizzly enclosure and ask if she sees a difference. “I’m telling you, Bjorgman,” he says, clicking his tongue and shaking his head sadly, “the beard’s gotta go, or they’re gonna put you behind glass, too.”

“Shut up,” he mumbles, earning a snort and an elbow to the ribs.

They’re only halfway through the monkey section when Alice starts whining about a popsicle. “We’re not coming back through here if we leave now, Al,” Kristoff warns her, but she’s unmoved.

She switches to holding Sven’s hand while Kristoff pays for the popsicles and finds a bench big enough for the three of them; Alice sits in the middle, red popsicle juice already dripping onto her t-shirt, and leans back with a happy sigh.

“Good birthday so far, Ally Pally?” Sven asks as he slurps at his own firecracker pop.

“Uh-huh,” she mumbles, trying and failing to catch a drip running down her arm.

Kristoff sets his frozen lemonade aside to swipe at it, cursing himself for leaving the wet wipes in the car. “Guess what? Uncle Sven’s going to Nana’s house for your party tonight.”

“Why?” Alice asks, frowning.

“Because he’s your family,” Kristoff says.

“Why won’t Mommy be there?”

Shit. He walked right into that one. “She’s busy,” Kristoff says, wondering if she actually is.

Some days, that line works. Today, it doesn’t. A moment later, the popsicle is on the sidewalk, Alice is screeching, and he and Sven come to the silent agreement that it’s time to go.

If he wasn’t so busy wrangling a sobbing four-year-old, Kristoff would have time to be amused that, just like when they played together in college, Sven’s the one clearing a path for him through the horde. He’s damn lucky to have a friend like that, and he knows it, but it still doesn’t sit right, sometimes, all the shit Sven does without asking for anything back. He won’t even take Kristoff buying the tickets and ice cream; there’s going to be a twenty shoved in the glove compartment or the fridge or one of Alice’s little plastic purses by the end of the day, and neither of them will say anything about it.

* * *

One mile in the car is enough to knock Alice out, and they’ve still got fourteen to go. Sven chuckles at the sight of her slumped over in the carseat. “Damn. Guess chasing the seals up and down the glass wore her out.”

“She didn’t sleep well last night,” Kristoff admits, and they’re both quiet for a minute; they’ve been best friends, tight as real brothers, for going on nine years now, but it’s still hard sometimes, talking about shit like this. It only ever happens in the car when they don’t really have to look at each other.

“Asking about the wicked witch of the west again?”

Petty as it is, the stupid nickname still gives Kristoff a twinge of satisfaction when he hears it. “Yeah. Apparently Lily’s mommy was at  _ her _ birthday party, so now Al wants hers. As if she’s a fucking clown for hire or something.”

“What’d you tell her?”

“That Mommy’s busy. I’ve told her before that Mommy’s not coming back, but it doesn’t really get through to her. I don’t think she gets ‘never’ yet, you know?”

Sven mutters something under his breath that’s so vulgar Kristoff checks the rearview mirror to make sure Alice didn’t wake up to hear it. “Well, at least she’s got the world’s coolest uncle. And her dad’s alright, too, when he’s not being a grumpy bastard.”

“Thanks, buddy.”

That’s enough male bonding for one day. They’re quiet for another moment, and then Sven plugs the aux cable into his phone, and they listen to Journey at half volume the rest of the way back to the house, Sven headbanging and playing a wicked air guitar until Kristoff cracks a rare smile and plays the drums on the steering wheel at a red light.

* * *

Sven heads right to practice once they’re back at the house; he claps Kristoff on the shoulder and says “see you tonight” before loping off to his car and leaving him to carry Alice upstairs to her bed.

He’s got forty minutes of naptime left if he’s lucky. He sniffs at his shirt and cringes; between the meltdown last night and how tired he was afterward, a shower hasn’t happened yet. Neither has mopping the kitchen where it’s still sticky after an apple juice incident, nor washing his sheets; he hasn’t even finished double checking the books for the café like his mom asked. 

But that shit’s a hell of a lot easier to do when Alice is awake than this is, so Kristoff hops in the shower without waiting for the water to warm and grabs his bottle of three-in-one soap. He hums a little to himself as he lathers his hair, one of the songs they jammed out to in the car, and lets the warm water do what it can to relieve the tension that’s always sitting in his shoulders even on the days when no one calls out at work and Alice doesn’t scream in the grocery store. 

He winces at his reflection when he gets out of the shower. Sven had a point today about the beard; combined with his overgrown hair and the shadows under his eyes, he looks less like a twenty something ex-football player than a grizzled old mountain man. No fucking wonder people keep their distance from him. 

He likes it that way, though, really; no probing questions in the checkout line, no well-meaning advice from strangers, nobody interrupting the routine they’ve got down. 

But sometimes, he has to admit, it would be nice if—

“Daddy?” comes a sleepy, petulant voice from down the hall, and he’s been wasting time  _ wanting _ things when he’s not even dressed yet. 

* * *

As usual, his mom’s gone all out for the party; Kristoff’s her only child, so she spoils Alice with the focus and enthusiasm of an entire competitive cheer squad. There’s a massive pink cake— way too much for the two of them, his parents, and Sven and his new girlfriend, who’s an unexpected but highly welcome addition to the crew, considering how quickly she and Alice bond over their love of Mulan and orange juice.

It’s not a break, exactly, to have this many adults around, but it’s breathing room, at least; Alice is in the living room on her grandfather’s lap performing all her favorite songs from  _ Poppy’s Garden Tales _ while Sven’s girlfriend-- Marissa or Maisie or something-- claps along and Sven takes pictures of them both. Kristoff’s in the kitchen working on clearing the table and washing the dishes, enjoying the relative peace of the moment, until suddenly his mom appears at his elbow with a knowing glint in her eye.

“You’re not eating enough,” she says without preamble.

“What? I ate two plates of spaghetti.”

She jabs him in the side, and he yelps. “What else have you eaten today?”

“A pancake,” he says defensively. “And some frozen lemonade and a PB&J.”

He didn’t realize how little it was until he lists it all off. He used to eat four thousand calories a day, track all his macros weigh all his proteins; now he just eats whatever he’s making for Alice. 

“Baby,” his mother says gently, “you gotta take care of yourself, too.”

He’s heard this lecture a thousand times over the last four years. “I know,” he mumbles; arguing only prolongs the inevitable. 

“Maybe Sven can help you find a nice--”

“ _ No _ , Ma,” he says, and it comes out harsher than he means it to. He pauses his scrubbing, remorseful, and she sets a hand on his forearm in silent understanding.

He leans down and kisses her cheek. “You and Al are the only girls I need,” he says, keeping his voice light, and she laughs.

The singing’s ended by now, and Alice is on her uncle’s lap reciting all the animals they saw that morning. “We’re gonna go back,” she announces. “You can come next time, Mary.”

_ Mary _ \-- shit, how’d he forget an easy name like that? He really is getting old.

“What’d you wish for when you blew out the candles, Ally Pally?” she asks, and now Kristoff really likes her for catching on to that so quick.

“I want every day like this,” Alice announces decisively.

Sven chuckles at that. “If every day’s your birthday, then it’s not special anymore.”

“ _ Nooo _ ,” Alice giggles, “I wanna have fun with Daddy every day.”

Well, shit. He fucking wants that too, but how the hell do you tell a four year old it’s not that easy, that he only got today off with her because both his parents worked at the cafe today despite his dad’s knee replacement and his mom’s arthritis?

He’s glad Ma’s turned away from him when Alice says it so he doesn’t have to see the all-too familiar sympathy in her eyes. He gets that look from her and the rest of the world every damn day. He doesn’t want pity, doesn’t even want help. Him and Alice, they’re a team, and they don’t need anyone else. 

“Baby,” his mom starts, and he knows it’s going to be something too compassionate to stomach right now, and so he walks into the living room, pretending not to hear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you gabi for the joke about kristoff and the bears


End file.
